The Ironies of Innocence
by LatentBeauty
Summary: Innocence: freedom from sin, moral wrong, evil. I craved it, needed it, desperately wanted it. But it had been denied to me my entire life. Instead I was forced to kill it. Yet it was her innocence that held the key and lock that would determine my fate.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: Here is another one of my dark little stories. Like Beautifully Written Misery, expect this to be about ten chapters, with switching points of view. Every other chapter will be Draco. Also expect about a chapter a month, maybe sooner maybe later, but I believe that's a decent time frame.

And now without further ado, I bring you:

The Ironies of Innocence

Innocence: freedom from sin, moral wrong, evil.

_"His first kill," my master said with a hidden smile._

_My father laughed and pushed me forward._

_The small boy trembled beneath me; suddenly I realized that it was I he was scared of. I, who possessed the power over his life, his fate, his destiny. And then I realized it was I who stripped the world of what little beauty it had. I was a murder of innocence, a rapist of virtue._

_"Do it," my father whispered harshly in my ear, "The Dark Lord grows impatient."_

_I raised my wand and gazed into the boy's dark grey eyes, so like my own, and uttered the words. _

_He fell dead before my eyes, so uncommonly overcast._

I craved it, needed it, desperately wanted it. But it had been denied to me my entire life. Instead I was forced to kill it, make it bleed before me. I always would stand there peering into it, wishing that maybe I could absorb that which makes all life beautiful.

_I stood beneath a great willow, observing my 'glory'. The house in front of me was alight with the dark mark. The skull and snake moved eerily in the night, echoing death._

_Inside I knew that a new mother lay dead beside her baby. I knew that the father would come home and utter a noise to terrible so horrible that the whole world would cringe. But most of all I knew that I would have to remember that it was I who did this._

Maybe it was the innocence that got to me, the way it sparkled around you, as if it was there to preserve your everlasting youth. I saw it glinting in even the darkest shadows, and I watched as it glowed on those black stormy nights, a flash of lightening that refused to disappear.

_The old man stumbled before me, pleading for his life. He was a pitiful example of human nature, but all the same I could see the same beauty in his eyes. He was innocent of a great crime, one I had committed so often._

_Angered by the simple truth that he had lived triple my years and still remained untouched by darkness, I screamed the cursed words. _

_His body rolled onto my feet, his blank blue eyes gazed into mine._

I wanted it. I yearned to taint it, stain it red with my corruption. For it taunted me, shinning easily when I had been trying to overcome my own darkness all my life. You seemed to stand on the top of the tallest mountain, mocking me as I attempted to climb its steep slopes. How I wanted to fly high above you, soar into your light, let you feel the cool damp fingers of blackness. But I knew you would stand below me laughing, a music brighter than the very sun.

_The father begged again and again. "Not my little girl," he cried._

_Emotion arose in my heart. My father would never be like this man, he would push me in front like an offering of death. Yet here this different man, yet so alike, begged me not to kill his child._

_No, I would make him feel my pain, my anguish. "Stand aside," I hissed. _

_"Please! Don't! I beg you!" he screamed in panic._

_Instead I laughed with malice and killed her; unable to deal with his love and grief I murdered him as well. _

Yet the thing that angered me more than your innocence was that you knew. You were aware that I watched you throughout the corridors. You saw me follow you, climbing an ancient staircase that was well out of my way. Sometimes I thought you would lead me astray just to see if I would follow. It became a game for you, some silly little puzzle to please your mind. I played along too, because it intrigued and frustrated me all the more.

_She ran away from me, her chocolate brown hair danced further and further into the shadows. She flung curses behind her back, but they were badly aimed._

_"Stupefy!" I yelled and suddenly she dropped._

_I walked over slowly pondering whether or not I should let her go. My master had never mentioned her name, so I did not know if I should dispose of her. _

_Her face called to me, its warmth radiated. I leaned down and delicately kissed her lips. They were strangely cold for me. Immediately filled with sorrow I ran, leaving her to almost certain death._

Somewhere though deep down, I loved you. Maybe that was what I resented most, my compassion for you. I had been raised to have a cold empty heart. Love and hate were supposed to be foreign to me. But your innocence broke through the barriers that had been set my father. I found that despite myself, I loved you in every way I knew how, just as I hated you.

_A boy ushered his grandmother out the dark alley. But he wasn't fast enough. With a sudden pop I was there, standing before the two of them._

_He saw my mask and with a terrified look whispered, "Run Gran, I'll fend him off."_

_I was touched by his ability to take me on, an evil Death Eater with power, while he was barely eleven years old. _

_The old senile woman absentmindedly wandered off into the shadows, humming to herself. _

_I cared nothing about her, I knew she was harmless. It was the boy who now presented an annoying sense of nobility. _

_I called out, "Are you sure you want to die?"_

_I saw him tremble, but stand upright, his tattered wand raised. _

_I let him try to curse me with his feeble magic before I finally took his life. Then on an afterthought I killed his dear old grandmother._

It did not matter to me that you never felt the same. True it was aggravating, but its significance was fragmented. For even your love could not change my fate. It was your innocence that held the key and the lock that would determine my destiny.

_They lay spread eagle like guardian angels that were sent to watch over her. The little girl cowered beneath them, tears of salt rained upon her dead parents. She looked up at me, her greens eyes filled with childhood beauty. Her golden red hair glowed against her pale skin, a baby angel. She was so good, so pure, so innocent._

_Then, basking in her glory, I remembered, "Kill them all," my master had commanded. _

_But how could I destroy this virtue. It was perfection, ecstasy. God. But as I stood there, fingering my wand I knew that she too would die, and with her life another golden sun would fade away. Saddened by the loss, I whispered the words. _

_With a flash of green she too became a dead angel. _

You see, Ginny, I can never forget her. That small beautiful girl represents a world to me, your world. One that I so crave.

Maybe one day you'll show me..


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Never mind, you get a chapter earlier. 

Chapter 2

Love is something I treasured, something I idolized. I lived for it, hoped for it, and cried over it. Love took me by surprise and found me when I least expected. For it took years for him to fall in love with me but only seconds to die. I loved Harry with all my heart, in every single way a person can love another. I loved him as only Juliet could love her Romeo. And just like her, I found him lying beneath my feet. His emerald green eyes staring into mine blank with death.

It haunts me like a nightmare that will never let go. It fogs my vision whenever I stop and allow myself to ponder love. Why is it that fate gave him to me, only to take him away so quickly? Was it tempting me? Intending for me to hurt the rest of my life, while I search for another unrequited love.

Why is it that destiny plays games with me? Here it stands, sending Harry's enemy my way, a love struck bastard who is too late to claim my broken heart. How dare he even begin to try? I loved Harry, and will only ever love him. I feel nothing but rancor and pity towards those that fought against him. A great tempest wells inside of me every time one of them dares to draw near. To me they're all the same, they all killed my love. I was slashed apart with two small words, left to stain the world blood red.

The world has faded to black and white blotting out all beauty, all color has left. It has become a life of harsh extremes hate and love. Death and life. People go by in a haze of grey. Days pass underneath an empty sky. The sun sets into a blackened sky. The world empties before me. How I miss the color green, I long to see the early morning grass sparkling with dew or the calm current over an emerald lake. But it all comes in black and white. Yet I still see red as I sit back to watch my heart bleed.

I would do anything to have Harry back. Some use the phrase lightly, but I would exchange his life for any other on earth, including me or my family. I want him so badly. Every night, without fail, I gaze up into the stars and beg for him to come back. I hear his whispers behind the veil in my dreams, and I long to fall behind it with him. I taste death in my heart every day. I pray to die, so that I may find him beyond this world. But every time I pull a dagger close to my heart I hear him whisper.

_"Once upon a time there lived a beautiful girl, Gin. She had locks of the golden sun, and her eyes sparkled with the color of autumn leaves. Her skin, as pale as moonlight, felt like rose petals. She danced beneath the stars, and sang to the heavens. She cried into the sea, and laughed with the sparrows. Her innocent radiance shone brighter then anything I have ever seen. That was the beautiful girl I loved. She was you, she is still you. Don't take her away."_

So sweet death is not to be my escape, instead I trapped in this limbo of loving the dead and hating those with life. Always wishing that I could somehow my way out, but I have found that God cannot save me, neither can fate. So I find a way to relive the beautiful past everyday, before he died.

_"Gin! Wake up," he said while poking my side. _

_"Hmmm," I responded groggily. _

_"Come on."_

_"Harry I want to sleep, we can make out tomorrow," I murmured and rolled over._

_"Really?" he said laughing. "Good, I was afraid I'd miss out. But get up, please."_

_"Say pretty please," I said, grinning evilly._

_He rolled his eyes and then, "Fine. Pretty, pretty please will you get up?"_

_"If you grab my shoes."_

_"Nah, you don't need them."_

_"Fine," I whispered, pretending to be difficult. _

_Harry led me down the creaky steps of the Burrow. I felt my feet tread upon the soft worn carpet I had grown up with, and then ultimately onto the cool wet grass, fresh with dew. I ran across the yard through the summer fireflies toward the broom shed._

_"Let's go for a ride!" I said into the purple twilight._

_"Two steps ahead of you," he said from behind me, placing a kiss on my neck._

_"Well aren't you clever," I remarked sarcastically, turning to face him. Then with another grin I kissed him._

_"I thought I didn't get any until tomorrow," Harry pointed out with a smile._

_"Well fine, if that's what you want," I said breaking away. "Prat."_

_"Hey, not nice Gin," he laughed and motioned for me to get on behind him._

_"I'm not going for the ride stupid, you are," I said and got in front of him before he could stop me. "Hold on." _

_We kicked off and soared upward into the starry night, lit by the moon. He wrapped his arms around me, and pulled my hair out of its tight pony tail. It stretched out behind us, like the tail of a comet in the wind. I felt Harry smile as he lowered his head into the crook of my neck. We flew above the world marveling at the endless beauty of night. It was as if at that moment we were the only ones alive. A sense of power and beauty overcame me. Then another feeling so profound found its way into my heart, in the dark silent sky my life changed before my eyes. _

_It was as if Harry felt it too. "I love you Gin," he whispered into my ear so that only I would know._

_I turned and softly placed a kiss upon his lips. "I love you," I murmured into the wind, and felt the whole world disappear into his eyes._

They tell us all that perfection is only an ideal. But as long as I remember that moment I have known perfection in its best light. For the first time in my entire life I felt love in all its greatness, nothing is more meaningful or beautiful than that. I mourn that in my heart I will never be a part of something so pure and great again.

Yet I knew the whole time, we all knew that Harry would have to die. But I think a part of me never truly believed that he could leave me for ever. I hoped that he would find a way. But he only sadly shook his head when I told him things would be alright. He would say to me again and again, _"Look, I don't want to leave you alone, but we have to face this. I will probably die. I tempted fate too much. I don't want you to be lonely and I don't want you to get hurt. Voldemort will use you against me. I love you too much to let him hurt you, even if it involves hurting me. This has to end."_

But I'd tell him I didn't care. I'd rather die that not be in love with him, and then I'd cry while he held me tight. Harry was the only person that ever saw my tears. No one has seen them since. I don't cry publicly, it makes people feel sorry for you, and what good does sympathy really do? It makes us sad pitiful creatures that wallow in our misfortune. If there's one thing I don't need, it's another reason to dwell on his love.

If there's another thing I don't need its new love. I don't understand what I am to you. You can't honestly believe that I'd ever love you Draco? Even looking at you is insulting Harry's memory. And I refuse to befoul the image of someone who would have died for me.

Yet for some reason I find myself intrigued by the mere fact that I mean something to you. I am not blind. I see you following me through the shops or on the cobbled streets. I notice you watching me and I feel your stares upon my back. But they do not burn with hatred; rather tingle filled with a strange urge to understand. What have I to offer you, to make you follow me?

Half of me, filled without childhood curiosity, itches to know. The other wants to run away, run until I can't breathe anymore. It has become a daily battle, a small sort of game. While I allow myself to lead you through crowded streets and smelly alleys I take pleasure in seeing your frustration. Yet I fear that I see love in your eyes as well.

But how can a creature like you know love? You have been deprived of it your whole life, reared as a mere robot destined to do your master's bidding. That which makes you evil makes me feel a great sadness. Nonetheless it matters little when I think of how you murdered children, possibly even Fred. How could you take away my brother's other half? You destroyed his life, now George lives and breathes in the shadows, fallen into a mist that he can't see through.

No, the more I ponder your life, the less I feel for you. The hatred I feel for you is deserved. I hope you lose someone the way I lost myself. But maybe there's not enough human in you to feel death.


	3. Chapter 3

Authors Note: All reviews, especially critical ones, are welcome. Though it always makes me happy when I read a complementary one, the ones that point out my mistakes are more helpful. So please tell me when I royally screw up!

Chapter 3

The night was alive with its icy winds whipping across the misshapen stone streets. Crystalline snowflakes fell from endless grey clouds, dusting the ground white. The ivory moon hid its face behind a great overcast sky castle and the black infinity above stretched across the world.

All had long since gone home to sit beside the fire and drink warm mugs of hot chocolate. The usual nocturnal movement ceased and silence grew. An alternate universe came into existence. Yet still you purposefully trudged forward on a mission unhindered by the external factors. The chill grew but something within me could not leave. Instead I followed you through the frosted air, while all other life hid beneath their quilted down blankets.

Our footsteps echoed, creating a soft concerto with the wind. It was beautiful in a way that Mozart could never fathom. You heard it as well, knowing that it was my steps that accompanied yours. Maybe that was why you never turned to see my face. I always wondered why you didn't check to make sure I wasn't some homicidal manic, but I suppose that something deep down sensed me.

Then, as quietly as our masterpiece had started, it finished, leaving the last notes hanging in the air. You stood upon a delicate bridge, covered in frozen vines, which overlooked a lonesome creak. Its current no longer flowed freely. It was trapped beneath a great block of ice, doomed to a watery cage of isolation.

Time stopped as the silence of thought encompassed our minds.

"Have you ever been in love?" you asked faintly, still gazing over the bridge.

Taken aback, I stopped to ponder. You were the only person I could ever imagine loving, but at the same time I can't stop myself from hating you. What does that mean? Don't normal people just look at someone and know that their bound to spend the rest of their lives together? They hold hands and whisper softly under the stars. They dance in a ballroom of brilliance, never to despise one another.

You waited patiently as your eyes drifted upwards into the dark sky searching for moonlight.

"No," I answered quietly, truthfully.

Then your face turned to meet mine. Powered snowflakes adorned your auburn hair like precious pearls. Your cheeks were rosy red from the cold and stained by your tears, which feel from hazel wood eyes. They gleamed, shinning with sorrow as I glared into them. In your eyes I saw a million memories of laughter, joy, love, anger, misery, hatred, depression. I saw thousands of stories that I cannot begin to tell, but hundreds of themes that I understand.

"I'm sorry," you replied hoarsely.

"Are you really?"

A great silence hung in the air.

Pausing, you looked directly into my eyes and whispered, "Yes."

For the first time in my life someone seemed to see that my world was a pitiful waste. It was like walking into a deep empty cavern where my voice bounced back and forth screaming in self-hatred. The deep brown walls would crumble and collapse each time coming closer to burying me beneath my fate.

"What are you looking for?" you asked.

I shrugged, suddenly not wanting to know what my paradoxical quest was. So I turned and walked away from you, from what my mind desperately needed to understand.

"Goodnight," a soft voice whispered on the wind, following me home and into my dreams.

Sleep became a paradise that night. It was everything that I ever could imagine wanting. But in a way it was reminder of what I was incapable of possessing. I see you in every fantasy, every false moment. For you embody the life I wish I had.

In you I find everything I've ever wanted. A family. True love. Beauty. Childhood. Freedom. Passion. Each time my eyes follow your soft footsteps I hear a faint echo of my youth. It reminds me of how distant our lives really were, are. Unlike you I was never loved. Instead I was needed, born and bred to be the heir of the Dark Lord's closest accomplice. It was written to be my fate, and nothing I could do could change the course of the past.

Strange how life assigns us roles even before we come into existence, how it offers some a heaven and others a hell. Life was never supposed to be fair. Those bumbling idiots who preach about equality can't begin to comprehend the injustice of it all. I never chose to be evil, but I here I find myself as Satan.

Even from the beginning life was a nightmare. My first word had been mudblood, my second being hate. It seems like such a small thing, but I mourn my first precious ideas of spirit. Most children first enter their minds with words like mum or dad. But my thoughts mimicked the life I was destined to lead, already I was a robot controlled by my father. I wandered through the cold manor of my parents discovering all the evil hidden beneath the stone walls. I ran through the misty grounds, in an attempt to escape the blackened world, but I always found myself back on the damp steps empty of love.

And then the Great War came in a hurried daze. It seems that I never got the chance to grow up let alone find my soul before it was damned. But I suppose it too late now; I wish for once I had been early.

Once again I find life has passed me by. Love has forsaken me, punished me for destroying it. Yes, I assume that's fair, but oh how ironic that the good of this world is balanced out on scales now when before my eternity was never given a second's glance.

What do these greater powers expect from me? They never gave me the chance to be innocent, to be whole. They shoved me down into a harsh cold reality and thought I just might turn out to be the hero. I don't know why they bothered, shouldn't they know it was Harry.

Often times I find myself wishing to be him, to have my parents dead. For I'd rather live without ever knowing them, then be assured that they hated me. The only people in life that love you through thick and thin dismissed me as a shadow of something more powerful. They never fit into the conventional mold of a guardian.

Mothers are supposed to nurture and care for you with an unmeasured compassion. They help you stand when life has knocked you off your feet. They teach you to swim against the great current of misfortune. Mothers are beautiful, radiating love. Then fathers are there to guide you through your first steps up until their death bed. They teach you the hard lessons, and then show you the amazing rarities of the world. Fathers build you a great glory and then allow you to live it.

Mine never bothered. No one ever bothered, except for money. I had everything anyone would have ever wanted. But, clichéd as it is, I think it you to be the richest in the world.

Maybe one day you'll show me the emerald of hope, the amethyst of dreams, the sapphire of strength, the ruby of love, or the diamond of innocence. You'll chisel the beauty out of the dulled rock, ugly on the surface, but secretly glowing.

Or maybe I'm fooling myself. You'll never be able to step out of the box that life has neatly etched into your mind. You might never see that love and hatred are not day and night. You'll never glimpse at the blur of afternoon in between, being a neither one nor the another, yet strangely combined. Could you possibly understand?

This last attempt at love is the only thing I feel living inside of me. The rest has died. It perished a long time ago, before it ever really came alive, like a flower that never came to a full bloom.

Please, I do not ask for forgiveness for the heinous crimes I have committed. Rather I plead that you may comprehend why I killed who I did, because I never wanted to. I wish that within me I could have found some of your courage and died, but life whispered to me. It wove, before me, a beautiful web of enchantments, wishes, hope. I'm still waiting, still dreaming, still stranded.

Will you show me?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

There is a great hollowness inside of me. My senses and emotions are dulled. No longer can I feel the icy wind upon my face, the little snow daggers penetrating into my pores. When the frosted branches cut into my skin, I sense nothing, only seeing the blood red droplets fade into the snow. There is no warmth left inside. The soft petals of a frozen rose neglected.

I wonder how the world can pass before me when I find nothing of value or importance. My family is extinct, wallowed away into wraths of tragedy. My beloved mother, who once shed tears at the smallest bruise, never cries. My father's bright laughter has been drunk away by the false illusions of alcohol. And my remaining brothers have all drifted apart into a great dark ocean of whirlpools.

Yet, it seems that compared to you I have the magnificent dreams of fairytales. Somewhere deep within the intransigent walls of my heart I find pity for you. In your eyes I see the same emptiness I feel within. You have been hollow your entire life, void of Dumbledore's profound greatest magic of all. And here I stand, once radiating that love of Harry, my family, and myself.

Last night you showed me a life I couldn't imagine, one of bitterness and unfilled hopes, a life without meaning. I wonder if your mother ever loved you, if she ever kissed you goodnight and pulled the covers up close to your chin. Did she sing you lullabies? Or cry when you started school? But, instead was she empty too? Was she lost into a dark world that her parents and husband had forced her into like you? Did her eyes glow, or were they glazed over in a deadened haze?

A blurred world strained to focus before my eyes. And so I stayed on the small bridge long after you left, pondering nothing. My mind became an empty road of unopened doors that were all shackled and locked invisibly. Unable to explore the deep waters of my conscious, I reverted back to memories of Harry.

_We had been sitting silently beside the fireplace contemplating the complexity of life. The warm red chairs encompassed our bodies, like glowing embers. The old grandfather clocked rung loudly in the kitchen, it chimed eleven times. Only when the heavy silence return did organized chaos erupt. Brilliant flames of vibrant green burned the cedar logs. Lupin's voice, usually soft and quiet, rang out into the comfortable air. _

_"It is time."_

_"If you're going I'm coming with you," I said, standing up before he could tell to stay._

_"No Gin," Harry replied firmly, his tone filled with fear. "Not tonight. Go with Ron and Hermione."_

_"Oh, stop being the hero, Harry. You can't do this alone. You can't just shove me aside with them. I'm going with you and you can't stop me," I said stubbornly. _

_He looked at me with those deep emerald eyes and whispered, "No."_

_I leaned backwards, surprised he had not exploded when I accused him of playing the hero. At a loss for words I fell forward into his arms. _

_"Promise me you won't follow."_

_I burrowed my head deeper into his neck and nodded. _

_"I love you Gin, you know that right?"_

_I nodded again, taking in his familiar scent, trying to imprint it in my mind._

_He lifted my chin and kissed me deeply. I tasted his tears. That was when I knew the end was coming. Tonight someone would die. The Wizarding World would change forever in a horribly clichéd light._

_Life froze before my eyes as I tried to take in all of him, so that if the worst happened I would be able to remember everything. A million moments compacted themselves in my mind like a neat little box with his name etched across the side._

_Finally, he kissed my forehead and told me he'd come back. I believed he would._

_As Harry walked out into the snowy night I whispered, "I love you," knowing that, despite the wind's loud howl, he would hear._

The winter sky I gazed into last night looked the same as it did the night he died. Except in the past a small part of me thought he would be coming home. That same bit of reckless hope was felt again. In you I glimpsed a new unthought-of dream. I saw in your heart a rising horizon, like the darkness was over.

Then today I looked into the mirror for the first time. I didn't see some shadow of a girl, young and hopeless, lost in grief. I didn't see the alabaster face that usually accompanies those empty eyes. Instead I saw someone waiting. For her to understand herself. For her old love to come back. For her ambition to finally be fulfilled. Waiting for her dream to come true, waiting to know what that dream really was. For disaster. For death. For beauty. But most of all for chances.

For it seems that hidden, buried within the very darkest depths of my mind it waits for change, for a beauty to instigate drastic terror. I don't understand what that may mean, but it weighs heavily in my heart. It occupies the small space that has not yet been broken.

So today I walk the deaden streets, covered in ice. The footsteps of so many lives whisper in the gentle sunlight, echoing off red brick encrusted with tenacious snowflakes. A few other courageous wanderers have ventured out, in curiosity, to see an empty city beautiful in its loneliness. They pass by quietly, mismatched vagabonds searching for a purpose. We all are. Every soul that explores this refuge is seeking a mysterious untold adventure that has yet to bloom before them. Yet we find the need to look, to let our tired eyes gaze outwardly, miserably hopeful.

As my feet carried me down the frosted walkways of muggle London, I fell away into the all too welcome numbness. But out of the blessed silence your voice came, dark and husky like the shadows that followed me.

"Weasley," you called out again in a slightly harsher tone.

"What?" I asked, spinning around quickly.

There you stood, another lost person, 'displaced'.

"What do you want?" I asked my voice softening.

Your tormented face was fighting an internal battle.

"Malfoy…"

"Look I wanted to know…if you hated me?"

"What?" I whispered, my eyes turning cold.

You followed me for days, with a sad dream hidden behind your eyes. I had thought you were one of my kind, another wanderer, searching for who the hell knows what. But you bring up this, this hatred we all once ravaged in?

"Look never mind…" you trailed off, letting your thoughts trail freely into the wind.

"That's not what this is really about is it?" I replied, interrupting the hollow silence. I could see it in your overcast eyes. There was so much more.

"Maybe this is all wrong," you said softly, questioning yourself.

Yet doubtfully, you stepped closer, narrowing our space. Suddenly I felt like I had known you all along. The mental difference we had experienced was erased, into this new circle, this new dance.

"Maybe…" I stammered.

Then you pulled your long ungloved hands out of your leather pockets and cupped my chin, raising it to you. Slowly we leaned into each other, discovering the secret ecstasy hidden on the snowy streets. Like lucky vagabonds we found our fate, discovered our long awaited purpose.

Yet I can't help wondering if maybe you were right, it is wrong. I still love Harry. But this feels like being unleashed from a caged eternity. Freedom.


	5. Chapter 5

Authors Note: Sorry for the delay. My class load this year is HUGE, and my anal OCDness defiantly isn't helping. But I suppose in the end it'll be grand.

Thanks to all my reviewers, I love all of you. Sorry if this chapter disappoints you. It was most defiantly my least favorite.

Chapter 5

Intoxicated by our kiss we fell in love. Yet it was far more than just that. It was a coming together of two pasts and futures, both hideously brilliant. Our searches were, for now, over. We had found the very thing society had made us avoid for years. Something changed on that desolate winter's day. Masked beneath our fiercely independent layers something glowed.

It was as if fate had instinctively brought us together, for we never planned to meet anywhere, yet strangely we would find each other lingering on a park bench. Walking under the star's shadows I would see you alone in the lamp light. Your red hair bound up, shinning in the golden pool. Some nights we would spend hours sitting beneath ancient ornate lampposts talking of a future neither one of us could see.

This new profound emotion forced us to come out in the open. For years we stood back and dwelled on our pasts both oppositely tragic of one another. Now neither one of us bothered to mention the events we had been through. You never asked if the rumors were true, and I never brought up Harry. Sometimes I could still see him deep within your eyes, a glimpse misery. I knew that you would question whether or not what we had was right. Yet the wind whispered that in the end you would come back to me.

For the first time in my life I felt something beautiful, something to live for. Life was no longer a bleak endless horizon. Suddenly death seemed unwelcome and unwanted. This utopian paradise we had created was more than I had ever dreamed of.

Yet, strangely, it was not all sleep's quixotic illusion. Though I pinched myself every morning, I found that, despite myself, I was awake. Life wasn't a dream. It was better. No one, no matter how imaginative, could spin this tale in their mind. Love's story is far more intricate than our dreams can handle.

So here, I find myself, sitting beneath the crystal clear sky, wallowing away the bleak hours of another Saturday. The park's emptiness was enticing and sweet. Covered in white, it glowed against the grey sky.

We stood side by side, stilled by the frosty air and in awe at the harsh radiance of winter.

"Gin?" I whispered, taking your hand in mine. Delicate and cold, it left traces of your pain.

"Hmm?" you mumbled incoherently.

"Do you ever forget?"

"What do you mean?" you asked sitting up to look into my eyes.

I looked out into the sky and said, "Do you ever forget that that you're alive?"

"A tad bit morbid, are we?" you replied with a soft laugh.

I shrugged and said, "I mean do you ever just feel like it's too good to be real?"

"Oh no, now we're getting sappy!" you giggled louder and tickled my sides.

"Ok, maybe it's clichéd, but I just…"

"Just can't think about anything else but me?" you said fluttering your eyelids, making fun of me. "Honestly Draco, I dream about you every night. I love you more than life itself!" And with that you fell into the snow and rolled around, laughing until you cried.

"Fine," I responded sullenly.

"Aww, is my whittle lover angry with me?"

One look at your histrionic face sent me into a rather unattractive fit of laughter.

It seemed, ironically, that moments like these made me feel more alive than anything. Yet it was so paradoxical. Though, for the first time I saw clearly, life was surreal. Days seemed endless and blurred, but strangely each one stuck out in my mind. You always stood out, a brilliant red in a haze of black and white.

You pulled me down into the beautifully frozen snow. We lay side by side, struggling for breath. But as soon as we found it, it was gone again, kissed away by the elusive warmth of your lips. The snow melted underneath us, as we discovered something more important than anything words can describe.

"I love you," you said quietly into the crisp air.

It was then that I knew you had fully committed yourself. Harry was not forgotten, but he was not dwelled on. And though I knew I would never give you what he gave you, I knew that we would not be compared. Your heart had finally let go, at least as much as it could. I knew that he would forever remain a part of you, but at least his spirit was at rest.

With confidence I responded clearly. "I love you, Ginny, more than you know."

I didn't doubt myself or my intentions. Something finally felt right. The lost pieces of my childhood jigsaw puzzle had been found and they were finally coming into place. A painted picture of something amazing was being assembled before my hungry eyes.

We stayed still until night had fallen and the stars had battled their way into the dark against the great clouds. A frozen silence stole down from the sky and left the world in an untouchable place filled with soft magic. No incantations we knew could break the spell that covered us.

For hours we watched the moon rise, until finally our frostbitten skin urged us to stand and walk home. We followed the icy pavement into the hollow city. The neon lights of downtown eerily lit up the streets. The garishly bright pinks, yellows, and greens called out to us, mocking our footsteps. A great sense of anxiousness overcame us and so we hurried away from them towards my flat.

Inside was blacker than outside, but warmer. You hurried off into the kitchen to make hot chocolate, while I lit a fire. The yellow orange flames blazed softly in the stone hearth. Slowly the heat filtered across the room, touching even the most stubborn cold corners.

"Here," you said from behind, handing me a steaming mug.

The sweet smell steamed my eyes, as I raised the cup to my lips. "BLOODY HELL!"

You giggled and said with a smile, "I knew that would happen."

"Aren't you nice then, not bothering to tell me," I said slightly annoyed.

"Mad again?"

"No," I replied angrily as I went off to the couch to pout.

"Liar," you whispered, rolling your eyes.

"Am not."

You crossed your arms, and then plopped down next to me. I, pretending to ignore your presence, turned away and looked into the fire.

You laughed quietly, and leaned over. Kissing my neck, you whispered, "I know you can't be pissed at me forever."

I dug my nails into my hands and definitely nodded.

You shook your head and began to move up towards my lips.

"Stop it," I said, hoping my voice would sound harsh. But it came out more pitiful.

You giggled again and nibbled my lips.

"Damn," I said pulling you in. "I never win these stupid things."

It was impossible to be mad at you, let alone pretend to be angry. You loved to have little stand offs, but I always had a hard time holding out. It usually ended up like this: making out.

Kissing you harder, we began where we had left off in the park. But as the fire died down, you drifted off in my arms. With a small smile on your face, sleep overtook you. And so I, too, surrendered myself to dreams knowing that when I woke up everything would feel the same.


	6. Chapter 6

Hey Guys: I am so sorry about this chapter being so freaking late. It's a disgrace to my name, heh. But if any of you have ever been a junior in high school you should understand the stress and pressure that I'm under right now. As soon as I get the SAT's, ACT's and my three AP's, plus the musical I'll be back to writing. Until then bear with me.

Chapter 6

A bolt of white-hot lightening erupted across the clear starless sky the moment my clock struck midnight. Rain drops fell from invisible clouds, exploding against the rattling window panes of my bedroom, waking me from my fitful sleep to an empty nightmare. Years ago, on this night, Harry had died. I had died.

And so I was being reminded by the great thundering blackness outside my small lonely room. I felt his presence in every single shadowed corner. I saw his emerald eyes light up the darkness. I could sense his love in the furthest depths of my heart, where every betrayal with you remained. Crying out, I begged for him. For his arms to hold me. For his strength to carry me. For his mind to clear my muddled thoughts. For his heart. For him to have me once more. But there were only rumpled bed covers and tearstained pillows for me to cling to.

In those hours of despair I wondered if what we had was good for both of us, or had all of our other emotions manifested themselves into love. Was your dysfunctional childhood blinding you into needing me? Did my broken heart seek to be mended in whatever person I could find? Or is it really love?

How can one distinguish between their illusions and their reality when it comes down to honesty with their most delicate fears? Is mankind really advanced enough to see past their own mirages?

When the day finally broke, my head was aching, dull from the ever abundant paradoxes of the night before. Yet there you were at my door, drenched by the storm, waiting with a tattered umbrella in hopes of keeping me dry. You had come to save me, as Harry had done so many times over.

The second you saw me you knew something was amiss. And instead of comforting me, in that annoying way that most people do, you looked deep within the confines and found all the answers to your questions. Without a word you kissed my forehead and disappeared noiselessly into the kitchen.

Relieved, I collapsed, exhausted, onto the warm couch and waited for you to reappear. It's strange how not talking can solve all the problems I'd ever dreamed of. It amazed me how perceptive you were, and how you sensed exactly what I needed.

"Here," you said handing me a warm cup of coffee.

I smiled in gratitude and let the silence sink in.

They say that infatuation is the closest thing to love. That the same passion is felt at first but then later fades into comfort. Humans, by nature, are resistant to change; therefore locking themselves into a cage of what they believe is love.

Does silence symbolize comfort, and so obviously infatuation?

Often times I find my self lost within my over analytical mind. It never rests, and it constantly feels the need to undermine whatever happiness I have. I am the master of comparisons and of the manipulation of words. I am able to twist any situation or phrase into what I want it to be, or what I subconsciously wish it would mean. That, in itself, is the great pitfall of my existence.

What we have was calculated and timed. It is a game both of us knew all too well. Yet sometimes I would forget, absentmindedly letting myself love you without the consequences. Those days were what I lived for, hoping that we could be normal, and fall in love like everyone else.

"Draco?" I asked quietly breaking the stale air.

You looked at me, analyzing my thoughts.

"Do you think that we could just go somewhere, anywhere really."

You nodded and stood.

I smiled and reached out for your hand, trying to erase the past night's trauma, to escape the suffocation.

As we stepped outside, you leaned down and whispered in my ear, "You know I always used to believe that the rain renews everything. It cleans away all of our mistakes and our problems. It's making a second chance."

I looked out and saw the frozen streets, a glittering white frost untouched by the dirt underneath. I saw the crystal icicles melting away onto the snow. I bore witness to an innocent day, unaware of the storm that had just shaken it. It was in every way a brave new world, and I, a brave new soul in it, reborn in the crisp air.

How was it that you had that ability to do that, to make it all better? I can't understand; in fact, I can't even begin to comprehend. Maybe that's why we stay together, because all of our childhood we wanted to know what was happening to us. We needed to believe that our lives meant something even if we struggled for eternity to find it. Maybe we think that together we can solve the puzzle. But maybe in the end, the rain has already washed it all away.

"So what are we going to do with this second chance?" I asked with a somewhat cocky undertone as I discretely packed a snowball.

You turned from me and I saw the hint of a smile on face.

I closed my eyes and threw, then before I could see the damage I ran.

"I hate you," you screamed and started off after me.

I heard the footsteps echoing across the icy pavement, and then out of nowhere a cold chill ran down my back. I felt my hair, and found it to be covered in snow.

"Ahh, revenge is sweet," you laughed menacingly.

I smiled and reached out for you admitting defeat, "Yes, I suppose it is."

You pulled me into a tight hug and sighed with a victorious afterthought.

Then, with your arms around me, I nonchalantly shoved snow down your grey jacket.

You pulled back with a grimace.

I threw my head back and cried, "Ahh, revenge is most definitely sweet."

"I hate you," you cried sullenly.

"No you don't, you love me," I said, meaning for it to be a joke but when it came out you looked at me with an unreadable emotion.

Once again the silence set in, this time an awkward one that implied all the confrontations that we had played out over and over again our heads, but had never ventured to bring up. So we stood there our hair frozen and our fingers numb blatantly avoiding eye contact. We were like little kids again, bashfully shuffling our feet, not knowing how to react to our crushes.

But they weren't crushes anymore. It was so much more complex than that. The emotion we felt towards one another was the manifestation of our lives and our struggles and the emotions they had created. It was the escape that we craved and read about. It was a second chance at everything good in the world.

"I'm sorry," I said in a hushed tone. "You know I didn't mean it to be, well…"

"I know," you responded back equally quite and pensive.

"Then why did it seem so…" I ventured out in hopes of finding the word to express the intangible feeling that had so quickly come over us both.

"I can't think of the word either."

"Changed," I came upon finally.

You nodded and looked away.

It was as if something had come over each of us and had shattered whatever the mold for whatever we felt had been. Because now, something was different. A sort of unspoken tone had come with the cold rain of the night's past. A chilling reminder of reality had passed.

We were not little naïve children anymore. Not that we ever really were.

An odd sort of tension had begun to set in. We both reverted back to the fear our childhood, isolated within our pain, within our loneliness. And now that we finally had love, we ran from it. We were turning our backs on everything we had ever dreamed of.

Ironic isn't it?

The tragic paradoxes of life reveal themselves for what they truly are and where they are truly found.

Nothing ever fucking works out for me and it seems like nothing ever will. Damn it. I'm sick of this place and this mess and the way everything good falls apart. What am I, some disease, some tainted piece of destruction that turns everything black?

I'm just not going to try any longer. The beginning of the end has begun.


End file.
